Page 70 of Severance

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I wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cigarette smoke. My body’s sore and my mouth is dry. A light breeze dancing across the room touches my face with featherlike gentleness.

I force my eyelids open and see Mikah’s silhouette drawn against the dark clouds floating outside the open window. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers and there’s a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His straight hair falls over his shoulders in messy cascades, and the sight of him makes my stomach coil with desire. However, when pieces of memories from last night begin to fit together, guilt with a pinch of horror and shame is the first feeling that washes through me.

I swallow past the tightness in my throat and push myself up, hands scrambling for the sheet to cover my nakedness.

Mikah turns to me, and when he holds out a mug of coffee, I scoot to the edge of the bed and grab it from him, telling him, “Thanks,” and taking a much-needed sip.

“You sleep okay?” he asks, his tone flat.

I give him a quiet, “Mm hmm,” but I’m too dazed by the fact that I had sex with my dead boyfriend’s brother to have any sort of conversation right now. It’s all coming down on me so hard that I’m not sure coffee alone is going to help.

Mikah steps back to the window and continues smoking his cigarette.

The silence between us drags on for a good minute and I use this time wisely—I consume as much caffeine as I can to get my confused brain going.

I expect more than just a random question about my sleep, but after a while, I realize that this is just as awkward for Mikah as it is for me. First, he wanted to keep his distance. Then he tried to get me to confess I’d fantasized about him. Which is he today? Detached or interested?

Fighting off my anxiety, I motion at his cigarette. “Can I have one?” My heart rate begins to pick up its pace.

“Sure.” He tips his head.

I set my coffee on the nightstand and walk over to the window with the sheet wrapped around me. Mikah pulls a cigarette from the pack sitting on the ledge and moves closer to me, positioning himself behind me. Although we’re not touching, I can feel his breath dancing across the back of my neck.

I find this calm his presence brings bizarre because Dakota made me feel this way too, which bugs me.

Mikah brings his hand to my mouth and slips the cigarette between my lips. The heat of his body blends with the heat of mine, and I get lost in my own thoughts until the flick of the lighter snaps me out of it.

I inhale the smoke slowly and let it seep into my lungs as Mikah’s fingers move through my hair, carefully pushing some of it aside. Then his lips touch my neck. “Any progress withSalem’s Lot?” His whisper trembles against my artery and I feel like I’m going to explode.

“What’s up with this fascination with vampires?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as I push some smoke out.

Instead of responding, his mouth stretches and he nips at my skin playfully.

I bite back a giggle when he hits a ticklish spot.

“Do you not want immortality?” he says with a funny accent.

A faint smile touches my lips. I’ve never seen this side of him and I want more. “I started it, but I believe I need to read something a little lighter right now.”

Mikah removes his teeth from my neck. “Sorry, I’m not familiar with any rom-coms.”

“Don’t worry. You don’t strike me as the type.”

The pause destroys the moment of ease and we continue to smoke in silence.

“Do you know what time it is?” I ask, putting out my cigarette.

“Around eight,” he mumbles against my ear.

“I have to get to class.”

“I have to go to work,” he responds as his hands rest on my hips and he kisses me one last time on the cheek.

My anxiety makes a comeback when I’m trying to clean up in Mikah’s bathroom. I’m not sure if it’s the coffee or something else, but the tremor that takes over me messes with my attempt to fix my bedroom hair, and I have to set down his brush on the counter and breathe through it. That’s what my therapist told me to do, anyway. After a few minutes of pointless inhaling and exhaling, I decide to see if Mikah has anything I can take. I’m convinced at this point that even Advil is better than nothing.

I peek into one of the cabinets, and there, on a small shelf, are a lot of pill bottles. Some are anti-depressants like mine, and some are ones I’m not familiar with. Perhaps Mikah’s having nightmares too. I grab one of the bottles with my shaking hand and read the label. It doesn’t sound familiar, so I put it back. I find the ones I’ve been prescribed and shove two pills into my mouth.

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